


Meleoron, Ging, and Bisky Burgle Pariston's McMansion

by sanakan



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: M/M, Weed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29409468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanakan/pseuds/sanakan
Summary: Meleoron had considered referencing his experience in the Neo Green Life military on a hypothetical curriculum vitae, but he supposed that job experience from a past life didn’t count. He doubted employers would look kindly upon his time as a Chimera Ant squadron leader, and anyway, he yearned too intensely for the primitive communism described by Friedrich Engels’sThe Origin of the Family, Private Property, and the State. With the longing for collectivized farming in his heart, he could never live the life of the urban proletarian. He planned to take the Hunter Exam and start a new life as a Hunter as soon as possible, but until then, his options were crime or destitution. Meleoron chose crime.
Relationships: Ging Freecs/Pariston Hill, ging freecs/pariston hill BUT DIVORCED, meleoron/communism, meleoron/the endless cycle of death and rebirth
Comments: 17
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

# Chapter 1: McMansion Hell

The house sat hunched in a sea of trimmed green, flanked on both sides by the silhouetted woods. Acres of property lay between the house and any potential witnesses. Outlined in strokes of silver moonlight, the house looked almost beautiful—almost. The starless night softened the facade’s discordant elements, which were designed with no guiding sensibility but opulence: Gables, towers, and turrets lined the roof like spines on a reptile’s back; windows of various shapes and sizes sat scattered between scaly patches of stone; rows of columns held up an oversized pediment; a multitude of balconies, too narrow for an adult to stand upon them, peered out like eyes. The more Meleoron stared at Pariston’s McMansion from behind the bushes, the uglier it became. He dug in his sweatshirt pockets for his cigarettes and lighter. 

“Just checking in one more time: You’re sure the security cameras are disabled?” Bisky asked, hands on her hips. Like her accomplices, she had opted for all-black attire, choosing a monochromatic gothic Lolita ensemble for the occasion. How Bisky moved so easily in such ornate clothing, Meleoron had no idea.

“Yeah, just checked in with Dwun,” Ging grunted as he typed rapidly on his burner phone. “The cameras are disabled, and so are Pariston’s stupid ‘virtual assistants’. You know he has Amazon Alexa and Google Home? What do you think that says about him as a person?”

Cupping his hand over the flame, Meleoron lit his cigarette and took a drag. He pondered the question for a moment. Ging was difficult to work with, and his behavior perplexed Meleoron at times, but this robbery was the best opportunity that had come Meleoron’s way since the end of the Chimera Ant crisis. There weren’t many people willing to associate with Chimera Ants, much less hire them, and he had no mainstream job experience to put on a resume. 

Meleoron had considered referencing his experience in the Neo Green Life military on a hypothetical curriculum vitae, but he supposed that job experience from a past life didn’t count. He doubted employers would look kindly upon his time as a Chimera Ant squadron leader, and anyway, he yearned too intensely for the primitive communism described by Friedrich Engels’s _The Origin of the Family, Private Property, and the State_. With the longing for collectivized farming in his heart, he could never live the life of the urban proletarian. He planned to take the Hunter Exam and start a new life as a Hunter as soon as possible, but until then, his options were crime or destitution. Meleoron chose crime.

This particular crime had the potential to turn Meleoron’s life around. In recompense for helping him reclaim the personal property Pariston had taken in the divorce, Ging offered millions of Jenny and any marijuana found in the apartment. If this job went smoothly, not only would Meleoron’s finances be taken care of, his need for medical-grade weed would be satisfied as well.

Meleoron exhaled dancing curlicues of smoke. “It means he really likes wiretaps?” He guessed. He was not a fan of the Internet of Things. 

“Spot-on,” Ging agreed with a nod. “Pariston knows he’s being monitored by certain elements of the Hunter Association and the state, so he feeds them misleading conversations on purpose. We used to fuck as loudly as we could by the Google Home—”

“Shut the fuck up or I swear to god on everything,” Bisky interjected, her pigtails bobbing as she jabbed her index finger at Ging. She said something after the word everything, but it was unintelligible to Meleoron, who thanked her silently and took another drag. “Let’s move. I wanna steal Pariston’s collection of unethically-sourced healing crystals and get the fuck out of this suburban nightmare.”

“Fine,” Ging agreed. “Just be careful and make sure to use zetsu—yeah, yeah, I know you know, you’re a professional. But the ant isn’t.” 

“He’s a fucking chameleon, I’m sure he knows how to hide himself,” Bisky said. Meleoron nodded in agreement. She was right; he was a fucking chameleon. 

“Whatever. Anyway, I don’t feel anyone in my en, but I’m sure Pariston has left some temp hunters to housesit. They’re probably outside the range of any of our en; that house is huge, and it has a basement. If we’re not careful, we’ll get intercepted by the family from _Parasite,_ and it’ll be tiresome.”

Meleoron nodded enthusiastically. “ _Parasite_ was a great movie. Bong Joon-ho really outdid himself. It was even better than _Snowpiercer._ ”

Ignoring the Meleoron’s film commentary, Ging continued, “I don’t want any deaths, understand? I just wanna grab some personal items and leave. If we do encounter anyone, knock them out and move on. If it seems like we can’t continue without killing anyone, or if we’re in actual danger somehow—these temps aren’t exactly the cream of the crop, at least not the temps Pariston would leave around to housesit, so that’s unlikely—we’ll use God’s Accomplice and abandon ship.”

Meleoron nodded again. This was all in the contract, of course. Sometimes he felt as if Ging was a mouthpiece for an unnamed narrator to dump exposition, but the feeling was inexplicable, so he buried it. 

“Unclench your ass, will you?” Bisky sighed. “It’ll be fine. We’ll get your cuneiform tablets, or whatever it is that he took from you in the divorce, and then we’ll be on our merry way. You know I’m the best of the best, and so are you. We have nothing to worry about.”

“Never underestimate Pariston,” Ging said. He put his phone in his pocket, stretched his arms over his head. “For all we know, he could’ve planned this vacation specifically to lure me into coming here and stealing back my stuff.”

“It’s been a while since he visited his Chimera Ant children at that manmade island he keeps them on,” Bisky pointed out. “He’s due for a real vacation. But even if he’s really in that gaudy house, I don’t care. I’ll snap him in half if I need to. I want those crystals.”

Meleoron snuffed out his cigarette in the grass. He watched the embers die, just as he had died once before. After the palace invasion in East Gorteau, nothing scared him anymore. Having died and been reborn, Meleoron knew better than anyone else that life and death were but spokes in the wheel of samsara. He would finish this job in once piece, richer and several pounds’ worth of weed heavier, or he would die. It was all the same to him.


	2. House Sitters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're roleplaying Warrior Cats to pass the time.

Pariston’s basement was as dark as it was vast, but darkness was no obstacle for Killua. He perched on the coffee table, aping the motion of a cat licking its paw. “Listen, Littlefish,” he said, “Even though we’re from rival clans, I always thought of you as my best friend. But StarClan’s prophecy said we would fight here, and that can’t be helped. No hard feelings, okay?”

“No, Lightningpaw, wait!” Gon cried out. He was on all fours on the carpet, staring up at Killua with shining eyes. With his keen senses, all Gon needed to see was the faint glow from Pariston’s lava lamp collection. “Friendship is more powerful than prophecy! I don’t care what StarClan says!”

Killua hissed savagely. His leg muscles tensed with a surge of potential energy. “You dare question the wisdom of my ancestors?” 

“The ancestors have misled us before!”

“Blasphemy! Littlefish of ThunderClan, prepare to die!”

With that, Killua sprang, launching himself at Gon with claws outstretched. Gon barreled out of the way with only a split second to spare. He darted counterclockwise behind Killua, using the arc of momentum to unleash a kick. Killua spun, caught the kick at Gon’s ankle; Gon, still in motion, twisted his torso and hips to kick his opponent with the other foot. Wham! The kick connected, sending Killua flying into the wall. He crossed his forearms, curled his knees into his chest, and reinforced his body with ken before crashing through the plaster. 

Managing to land on his feet, as cats do, Killua found himself in an adjacent room. Having pierced not one but two walls with his body, his silver hair was covered in plaster dust, his pale skin studded with plywood splinters. “Now you’ve done it, Littlefish!” He yowled. “I’ll get you!”

Across the divide, Gon’s ears twitched. “Wait, Killua,” he called, moving to peer through the Killua-shaped hole in the wall. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what? Why are you breaking character?” 

“Upstairs…listen. I hear footsteps.”

Killua closed his eyes. A moment passed in silence. “You’re right,” he intoned. He shook the plaster out of his hair, crossed the threshold back into the room where Gon stood, and moved towards a nearby electrical outlet. A slow smile was spreading across his face. “Sounds like we have company.”

“Mr. Pariston said this would happen. Y’think it’s Ging?”

“I hope so.” Killua cracked his knuckles. Electricity coursed between his fingers, lit his indigo irises with a malicious glint. “Whoever it is, we’re about to see if they can hold up in battle against an electric type.”

“Like in Pokemon?”

“Like in Pokemon.”


End file.
